examined Kohle's cartoon, which was slowly making progress,
nodded gratefully and contentedly to his silent watchers--to whichever
one happened to be on post at the moment--and then sunk back again into
a refreshing slumber, often with a name on his lips which none of his
attendants understood.

The possessor of this name had not appeared in the garden again since
that first visit. Her uncle, on the other hand, rode by daily, drew up
at the gate whenever there happened to be any one within hail, or else
dismounted and, after tying his horse, went into the house, to inquire
about the invalid. This did not excite remark, for he was an old
acquaintance of the lieutenant, and his niece had made one at the fatal
water-party. Zenz, alone, although as a rule little given to pondering,
had her own thoughts in regard to the interest which uncle and niece
took in an utter stranger, and they only tended to confirm her former
surmises.

The reports from the sick-chamber were not the most favorable that
could have been wished. The healing of the wound in the shoulder went
on, it is true, without interruption--but slowly, on account of the
restlessness and feverishness of the patient. On the following Sunday,
when Jansen came out again with Rosenbusch and the actor, the fever
had, indeed, disappeared; but even now the visits to the sick man were
not allowed to last more than ten minutes, for the physician had
strictly forbidden all conversation until the wound in the lung should
have completely healed. Rosenbusch's offer to relieve Schnetz was
declined--greatly to his sorrow, which was only partially relieved by
Felix begging him to play his flute for a little while in the garden
under the window. Of Elfinger's proposal to read aloud to him, he
promised to take advantage later. He showed constantly how happy the
devoted care of his friends made him, and held the hand of his
"Daedalus" tightly clasped in his own during the whole of the visit,
with a tenderness such as he rarely exhibited before others.

Homo was to have returned with the three visitors, but even now he
could not be induced to do so.

On the day after this second visit Kohle was standing down-stair in the
dining-room at a time which, according to the orders of the day, he
should have devoted to sleep to strengthen himself for his night-watch.
But he could find no rest until he finally put his hand to the work
that burned within his soul. Although the walls had not